Never The End: Red Dead Redemption
by Strangerthanstrange
Summary: Between Red Dead and Undead: A short story between John/Bonnie/Abigail; sexual themes, violence, gore, undead, horror, language, nudity and sexual assault
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A John/Bonnie/Abigail two-shot! During Undead Nightmare. It will be very mature so please mature audiences only!**

**Never The End: Red Dead Undead Nightmare**

**::**

Rotted blood stained his face, his clothes and held his hair matted together; he held tightly to his double-barrell, his hands uncontrollably shaken by everything he's seen, and everything he's been through in just two days of this unwanted event. John looked up to the green-sold skies and clenched his jaw until it hurt. His family was messed up because of this; every human ever born were biting fingers off others, sucking folk dry and bearing a growl so demonic and so out of this human world, it just wasn't fair.

Instead of just standing there like a fool in the middle of infected Blackwater, he mounted his horse, slumped his shotgun onto his back and rode off, headed for Hennigan's Stead.

He saw so many infected folk; it was sad to just see them once as he rode by and try to forget their distorted, decomposing faces, but that was nearly impossible. This strange bug in the air was killing so many innocent people, even the children and that broke his heart.

The air was growing hotter and hotter by each passing moment, and the fog appeared thicker than before making it hard to see the path he was on. He couldn't really do anything about it; the fog was nearly too thick and his left eye was on the verge of dying on him; has been for years now. "Damnit!" he cursed into the green thickening fog, and just before he had anytime to think, his mount whinnied so loud, jumped to it's hind legs and knocked John right onto his back, hard.

He lay there for a while before he realized what the real issue was for the horse to have done that. It was another infected, a matted haired woman, clothes ripped and torn, parts of her olive green flesh showing through, and areas on her body falling off in wet chunks.

John didn't really take the time to lay there and take a gander, he just grabbed his revolver at his hip and fired a single bullet at her head. It exploded pretty heavy and he watched as every last bit of her human brain splattered to the ground in a wet, sloppy, putred puddle.

He closed his eyes at the sight, and found his mount just a foot away from where he lay. He jumped on, stuck his boots in the stirrups and kicked it into a gallop down the now visible path. John was worried, he didn't want to have to see these folk in a terrible mess; missing eyes, broken legs, and limbs dropping like nobody's business. So he swallowed to clear his throat, in case he had to speak to those few survivors, he didn't want to come off as scared or frightened, it wasn't right for folk to know that especially in this mess, it would only bring more fear to those he'd save.

So pulling on the reins, his mount fell into a careful walk down the dirt path into Macfarlane's ranch. There were some dead folk laying around, blood puddles everywhere and several poorly fired bullets. "Mr. Marston, oh thank god can you help us!" an older woman standing on the roof of the chicken coop came to his attention and he climbed free from his horse.

John nodded and handed her a few extra bullets. She was terribly shaken and frightened; tears stained her pale face, she must've have fired many of those poorly shot bullets.

Getting his shotgun in hand, John aimed and fired, knocking many undead to the ground, heads nothing but brain and blood.

There were quite a few but he along with help managed to kill them all off. "What is this world comin' to?" he said quietly to himself, climbing his mount once again, trotting off to where Ms. Macfarlane lived.

By the looks of things it seemed no one was home, but someone was. Racket could be heard from just outside her house, grabbing John's worried attention. The sounds of gun shots and shattering glass was what startled him.

He jumped off his horse, stumbled from his knocking knees, and ran into the house, kicking in the front door. "Ms. Macfarlane, you in here!" he yelled, his shotgun ready to blow more undead heads in, his eyes looking around scarcely and nervously. The house was a complete disaster; there was blood stained everywhere. The beautiful walls, bloodied, the expensive dishes, shattered on the wooden floor. John swallowed hard this time and followed the bloody trail upstairs.

The strong scent of death and decay filled his nostrils and he coughed roughly, shielding his mouth with his hand. As he reached the top stair, he saw a large puddle of blood, so dark and thick he could smell it, and it smelled so strangely human. His heart began to race faster as he walked cautiously through the messy hall, his rusty spurs hitting the floorboards.

"Ms. Macfarlane, Mr. Macfarlane?" he called out daughter and father's name, hoping he'd get a response of some kind, but no. Another gun shot crackled through the air, echoing it nearly deafed John. "Come out you sons a' bitch!" John stood back from the threshold of the first bedroom, which was the first bedroom lining the hall. It looked like Mr. Macfarlane's room, and nothing but a few broken lamps and mirrors was all he found. He searched the room, opened closets, drawers just in case, and left finding nothing.

Then he entered the second door right next to Drew's bedroom; it was the bathroom. Pretty nice and everything was covered in blood. John's face distorted; he hated seeing what he saw. He slowly entered to room, making sure he didn't miss anything and then just as he turned to leave, he heard a loud thump in the hallway and jumped, turning around to find that it was Ms. Macfarlane, laying on the floor, trying to get to her feet, a gun in her bloody hand.

John was speechless when he saw her. He remained frozen but not for long. "M-Ms. Macfarlane, are you hurt?" it was time for John to save her life again, kneeling beside her, realizing that she has been wounded.

Bonnie coughed up blood, and smiled. "N-no I jus' fell into some glass I'm fine, no bites thank..uh..god!" she took John's gloved hand, him squeezing tightly from all the thick slippery blood between their hands. Her upper thigh was bleeding terribly. Her nightgown was covered in blood from head to toe; sad too because it looked beautiful on her.

"You are all cut up Ms. Macfarlane, I need to get you out of here, and where's your father?" John still held onto her bloodied hand, letting it go to hold onto his shotgun. Bonnie had trouble standing and her eyes never left her bedroom.

"I can't kill him John, I can't..." Bonnie fell over and lay limp. John was startled by this and got down to help her but just before he could put his hand on her to help, that deep demonic sound filled his ears and he was too late to react.

The undead pounced on him, flinging its' saliva and blood trying to penetrate John's shoulders with its' damaged fingernails.

"What the hell is your problem!" John used all that he had at the moment, and that was his foot. He managed to kick the bastard off him, but it only gave him 5 seconds to react. He reached for his shotgun and fired just in the nick of time.

.

.

Looking down at the dead corpse, John could tell it wasn't Drew just by the outfit and body size.

"Ms. Macfarlane, get up come on!" John reached down to help her stand, with one arm around her. She was still alive and thank god for that. On the way outside, Bonnie hurled blood and a lot of it. Her hair was still in its' natural little bun, not much blood matted, but she managed to throw most of that blood on John and herself.

He'd seen this once; she was gone. Her skin was already changing, her lovely peach flesh was dying, turning grey and he knew he couldn't shoot her, he just couldn't bring himself to doing it, even thinking it. She was a good friend, no way he was going to put a bullet in her head.

"Oh John, why did you have to come, I don't want you to see me like this," she gave a soft smile, and John put her down on the front porch floorboards, kneeling above her.

He dropped his weapon and took his hat off as well. "Who bit you?" John was trying so hard to keep his hands away from her; he wanted to touch her face and tell her it was alright, but that would be a lie, and there was no reason to touch her. Bonnie's face went hard, like she was about to cry biting her bloody lip. "I wasn't bit John, I have shards of gl-glass in my stomach..." she silently cried and John decided for this time to touch her; he stroked her cheek, feeling a bit awkward doing it but it made her calm down.

"Don't worry," John told her and she shut her eyes.

**::**

**E/N: I liked this ending! Please tell me what you thought about it! Had to fix it because the last ending was really stupid!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well finally the second chapter! This will involve some violence and blood, not too much but there definitely will be some blood, some slight sexual content, and friendship, and some hurt! Hope you enjoy it!**

**Never The End: Red Dead undead Nightmare**

**::**

John held Bonnie bridal style, both of them soaked in blood. He took her back inside, the smell so horrid it caused him to fall to a knee.

He swallowed and stood back up, climbing the stairs. "Ms. Macfarlane I will go get some water, stay here," he laid her in her father's bed, her eyelids heavy and face bloody. John fled the room in a hurry to get what he needed, some water and a bathing cloth.

.

He came back and bent to a knee at the edge of the bed, taking out his matchbox to light the candle on the nightstand. Neither of them looked attractive in this ambient lighting, too much blood on the face. Inhale, exhale, John leaned forward and rolled up Bonnie's left sleeve. Her arm was cut pretty bad but not too bad that he couldn't find the little shards.

She had already braced herself and gripped the sheets as hard as she could once John pulled them out, one by one carefully. John watched her face move and distort from the pain. "Thank you, Mr. Marston, you're a good uh friend," she must've forgotten to brace herself again, this time he pulled out a large piece of glass that almost looked too big to be in her thin arm. John released a chuckle, patting her arm with the alcohol covered rag. "Thank you Ms. Macfarlane, now can you roll your legs out to me, I need to remove the glass," John watched as she carefully situated herself so that her bloody legs were facing him, his gloved hands warm on her legs, the blood slowly drying.

"Miss, take this," John looked up at her, handing her that bottle of whiskey; that was the only way to ease the pain a little. She looked back down at him her eyes big and blue, lips red and dry. "I ain't goin' to drink too much, Mr. Marston," she gave a half-smile, taking a small swig, before giving it back to him.

**.**

_The night was warm, and the moon was big and bright. "Abigail," John called, walking into the small study, watching his lovely wife stare out of the window. _

_Her smile startled him, not in a bad way but a good way. "Hello John," Abigail kept herself pinned to the window sill, gazing up at the moon. "Don't you ever wander what might be on the moon, John, it's so beautiful," Abigail felt a warm pair of hands grope her shoulders and squeeze down to her waist. That's when she knew they've been apart for so long; _

_She turned around, facing him, reaching up to stroke his scarred whiskered face. Since reunited, Abigail hasn't been too close when it came to them being intimate. _

_Abigail kissed his cheek and took him by the hand. "Where's Jack?" Abigail let out a whimper as John picked her up, and set her back down on the face of the study table, pushing back a few of Jack's books. John kissed Abby's lips before closing the door and returned to his wanton wife. "He's probably readin'," John answered for the boy and carefully closed the warm space between the two of them, kissing her deeply. _

**.**

Ever since that night John couldn't stop thinking about Abigail. She was like all the others, all dead and gross, spitting blood and guts. Damnit it made him so furious.

Bonnie's cry woke him up from his small trance, and he blinked taking notice of what had made her cry. Fresh blood drip from her leg wound, as he violently pulled out a shard. John looked up at her and then back down at the wound. "I'm sorry Ms. Macfarlane, I didn't mean to hurt you," John apologized as best as he could, rubbing the rag on her leg, wiping the blood and taking most of the pain away, leaving a burning sensation from the alcohol.

Bonnie wiggled her toes, and John looked up slowly. "It's alright, Mr. Marston, I am startin' to feel a bit better," the boiling feeling in her stomach began to worry her again, and her expression confused John, as he stood up holding his arms out to her.

"You okay?" John held her to her feet as she began to fall over slowly. She spit more blood and doing so cause her gut wound to soak through much more, dripping to the floor. John held her onto the bed, and climbed on top and not in an intimate way; he pinned her down by her shoulders and her eyes finally closed again. He knew talking to her would be best so he did, while he sat at her feet, trying to position himself so he could carefully pull the largest shards from her wound.

"Ms. Macfarlane you have to drink all of this, it's goin' to hurt," without a response, John knew what was best for her. He squeaked the mattress as he hovered above her, carefully opening her mouth so he could pour the whiskey in.

If she didn't take it who knows if she would make it, and John would feel so terrible; terrible for losing her and terrible for Drew having to deal with his daughter's death.

.

The smell of decay and that decomposing corpse of that undead fellow started getting to him and he was on the verge of passing out, but he couldn't.

He made sure he didn't put any of his weight on top of her little body and continued to pour the alcohol into her mouth, some of it spilling out.

**.**

A few hours later, Bonnie opened her eyes again, the surgery was done. She woke up feeling a bit stiff and the smell of blood and whiskey filled the air.

John was fast asleep on the floor when she looked over, his left arm completely covering his eyes. Bonnie tried to get to her feet but it hurt. She had cuts and gashes everywhere, and the stitches weren't very tight.

"Mr. Marston, Mr. Marston, are you okay?" she lightly tapped him in the side with her foot and he jerked awake, looking up at her like she was going to take a huge bite out of him.

"Oh Ms. Macfarlane, sorry you kinda' scared me, you feelin' any better?" he grunted trying to get himself up. Bonnie sat on the edge of the blood-spotted bed, looking down at his boots. "Yeah, a lot better, why did you come here anyway you silly man, you can't always be a hero?" Bonnie watched him snicker and it faded away, scratching his head. "Sure, I know I can't always be a hero but I try Ms. Macfarlane, and I am searchin' for a cure, this crazy thing spreadin' through the air took my wife and son, turnin' them into brain-dead creeps," he explained, sitting beside her.

"You didn't have to go all your way jus' to save me, Mr. Marston, I'm a perfectly independent woman who can take care of herself, and besides you got your family to worry 'bout," she said softly, looking down again, twiddling her fingers.

John looked at her and coughed. "I know I have my family to worry 'bout, you're family too, Ms. Macfarlane," they both shared sweet glances and it ended too fast. "Where's Drew?" John asked jumping to his feet. Bonnie looked behind her at the window. He followed her eyes and saw the barn. "He was tryin' to hold back some of those crazy maneaters, he ain't the kind of man that's goin' to shoot the people he loves, Mr. Marston, but I'm sure he's fine..." something in Bonnie's voice was sad and hurt.

John swallowed and pulled out his revolver, laying it on the bed right beside Bonnie. She looked down at it and smiled. "You know Mr. Marston, I have tons of rifles and shotguns that will help me, but thanks, I'll use it," she laughed, and John left the bedroom with his double-barrell in hand. He gave it to her because he knew where her father kept the weapons; downstairs and there was no way in hell Bonnie was going to go tumbling down those stairs in the kind of condition she was in.

He left the house, feeling bad about kicking the door off the hinges, and stood proud and cautiously on the dirt road, looking every which way. The air was still hot and damp; it made him sweat like crazy. He didn't bother to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he didn't have enough time to take off the hat; a brain-dead creep could come out from hiding any moment.

He needed to check on Drew, for Bonnie's sake.

**::**

**E/N: Well theres the second chapter hope you readers enjoyed it so far. Tell me what you think and I'll keep on going!**


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